


The Queen's Pet

by Magnetism_bind



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captivity, Cock Rings, F/M, Humiliation, Non Consensual, Public Nudity, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-02-26
Packaged: 2017-10-31 17:53:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnetism_bind/pseuds/Magnetism_bind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Take him to my bedchamber."</p><p>What happened after the events in 107.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on the OUAT kinkmeme.
> 
>  
> 
> _So when she took his heart, he basically became her sex slave. What exactly did she do to him in her bedchambers?_
> 
>    
>  _Non-Con BDSM.  
>  Punishments  
> Orgasm denial or multiple orgasms ( oversensitivity)  
> Humiliation  
> Bondage  
> Any kink you want, except Scat, watersports, or vore._

Prologue -

The words keep repeating themselves, haunting him as he waits for the queen to return to her bedchamber.

“You are now mine. My pet.”

It shouldn't hurt. Nothing should hurt. He has no heart now. But the huntsman still tenses as the queen enters the room because he knows now what this woman is capable of and he is completely in her power. There is no one to free him, no one to let him go like he did for the girl. No one would risk their skin to save his. Save only his wolf and the huntsman had sent him far from his side before he returned to the palace. He couldn't take the risk that the queen would unleash her anger upon an innocent animal.

The queen pours herself a glass of dark, red wine and sips it, while she surveys the man in shackles before her. He's a dirty, untrained thing, but appealing enough for a wild animal. The pleasure she will take from exacting her revenge on his flesh will be untold.

The huntsman shivers as the queen looks at him.

“They say you were raised by wolves,” the queen remarks conversationally. “In which case, you should be used to being on your knees.”

The huntsman doesn't move, until one of the guards strikes him in the back and he falls to his knees.

“Yes, I think that will do for now. You will stay on your knees until I decide you deserve to walk like a man.”

He starts to rise, and the guard kicks him sharply in the side, forcing the huntsman to sprawl at her feet. Her black leather boot rests on his shoulder, pressing gently into his skin.

“You should know by now, Huntman,” her voice is a purr, licking over his body. “Obeying me is by far the wisest course of action.” Her boot moves to nudge at his chin, forcing him to look up at her. “But I can't call you that any more, now can I? You're not a huntsman, any more. You're...nothing. Nothing, but an animal, and animals,” her lips curve into a dangerous smile. “Are tamed.”

He moves to rest on his knees, still keeping his gaze even with hers. He will not look down to this woman, whatever her threats.

“You,” The queen's gaze travels over him. “Will be called my pet. For that is what you are now, and nothing more.”

“I belong to no one,” He tells her. “Least of all, you.”

“We'll see about that. Guards.” She snaps her fingers. “Take him away. Strip him. Have him cleaned up and brought back here.”


	2. Chapter 2

They take his hunting leathers, leaving him naked in the courtyard. Two guards throw bucket after bucket of water over his form, tossing a rag at him. He scrubs resentfully at his skin in the chill afternoon, washing away the scent of the forest, the scent of the only home he's ever known.

When they deem him clean enough, he's given a rough towel to dry himself. Soon as he is, that too is taken. The guards take his arms and lead him back to the queen's bedchamber.

The queen isn't there, and for a moment he can breathe. But then he sees the structure in a corner of the room and his throat closes. It's just two poles, with chains for his wrists and ankles, but somehow it's enough to make him panic. He struggles, kicking out at the guards. They have to fight to drag him over to it. One of them punches him solidly in the stomach and he crumples as they chain him. His arms are outstretched, legs spread wide, spread like an animal waiting to be skinned. He licks his dry lips and waits.

The waiting is the worst. That's why when he has to kill, he does it quick and clean and painlessly as possible. This sort of cruelty is why he can't stand humans.

The queen enters from a side chamber. She ignores him at first, moving to her wardrobe. She undresses without acknowledging the huntsman, changing into a slim, dark robe. Her body is magnificent, but he wants no part of it. He hasn't lain with a woman in over a year. He doesn't desire this one.

She turns at last and surveys the man spread-eagled in chains. “My...you don't look half bad, now that you're clean.”

He wants to pull at the chains, but knows it's pointless. He's caught in her trap, and he can only hope she'll tire of this amusement at some point and let him die.

The queen steps closer, reaching out a hand. She traces from his throat down his chest, one fingernail running between his nipples down to his navel before stepping close enough to cup his balls.

“Shall I take these as well?” She muses thoughtfully, squeezing just enough to make tears spring to his eyes. “Well?” When he doesn't answer, the queen squeezes harder.

“Please.” He manages at last.

The queen smiles. “There. That wasn't so hard.” She leans in to flick her tongue across his lips, tasting him. He wants to push her away. Instead, his lips part and her tongue invades him as her hands slip around his backside, cupping his cheeks forcefully, digging her nails into his skin.

When she pulls away, his cock strains shamefully toward her and she laughs. The huntsman looks away.

The queen strolls around to stand behind him. He can't see her, has to wait to know what she's doing. Her hand strokes down the length of his spine until her fingers slip between his cheeks and he tenses.

“Please.” He senses this is the right moment to start begging. Perhaps she'll take mercy on him.

“Did the wolves have you?” She leans in to breathe across the back of his neck. “Have you ever lain with a human?”

“Yes.”

“Which?” Her other hand curls around his neck, yanking his head back.

“I've lain with humans. The wolves are not so crass.” He jerks his head free.

“You are not an alpha.” She laughs. “You will be lain down and made to beg for it, because that's all you deserve. My dear pet.”

“Get on with it then.” He growls.

“Oh, I will.” Her forefinger strokes across his hole, before pushing inside and he whimpers.

It hurts, the burn of her fingers as she adds another, twisting them inside him, fucking him, scraping him inside. He cries aloud, trying to pull away, but he can't. She holds him by the hair, pulling his head back, holding him in place until finally he goes limp and she lets go.

He thinks that's all for now at least...but the queen has barely begun. 

She walks around to survey him from the front, studying his cock. 

“This could use some work.” Her fingers dance along the curve of his shaft playfully. “Perhaps you've forgotten how it works.”

The huntsman stays silent. He doesn't know what she wants now, and he's afraid of saying the wrong thing now, even if he doesn't want to admit it. There's fear curving along his spine, making him tense.

The queen tugs him slowly, testing the response then, when there's none...she slaps his face, both cheeks in quick succession. “If you're no use to me, I will make you into a eunuch and feed your balls to my dogs.” She tugs harder this time. “Understood?”

“It's difficult,” he grits his teeth, “When I'm in this position.” 

“Really?” She raises an eyebrow. “I think you like it. Pet.”

“Don't call me that.” 

Her grip on his cock tightens. “Beg me to fuck you.”

“No.”

“Beg me, to fuck you.” Her grip is tight, yet her thumb is stroking him gently, and he wants to arch into it as much as much as he wants to pull away. 

Keeping his lips tightly pressed together, doesn't keep him from letting a whimper escape. 

“You are a stubborn one, aren't you?” The queen sighs. “Very well. If that's how you want to play...we'll play.” She returns to her dresser, searching through a drawer for something. He can't see what.

When she returns to his side, the queen takes him in hand again. Stroking him quickly and efficiently, he's soon hard against his will. With a smug smile, she slips the cock ring on and steps back to admire it. 

“There. That'll do for now.” 

The huntsman is panting now, desperate for her to keep her hands off him, but that's not going to happen and he knows it. 

“Now.” The queen slides her hand around behind him, digging her nails into his backside, as she eases herself down upon his cock. 

The huntsman hisses as she invades him, taking possession of his cock, using it, using him for her own pleasure. Straining at the chains is useless. He can do nothing but stand there as she rides him, the slight flush in her cheeks the only sign that anything is moving her at all. 

“Oh pet.” The queen leans in, wrapping her legs around his waist. “You're going to have to work harder than that.” Her teeth bite hard into his ear, and he cries out, surging upward.

“There, come on, my wolf.” Her fingers pull at his hair as he does his best to respond, in spite of his restrictions. His body is no longer his own. 

The queen is slowly claiming him. 

 

When she's finished with him, the guards take him away. They chain him to a grating in the corner of her receiving chamber. The huntsman curls into a ball, wrapping his arms around himself. His skin smells like fear and lust and _her_. He hates himself for wanting to know what it'd be like to sink into her body, to taste the warmth of her closing around him. 

The next day passes slowly. The queen receives petitions from her subjects, who try not to look at the naked man chained in the corner of the room. It's safer to take no notice, so they don't. 

The huntsman kneels there, occasionally trying to stretch without drawing too much attention to himself. His stomach growls with hunger. He hasn't eaten since he was captured. 

When the last subject departs, the queen turns her gaze upon him. 

“What, I wonder...would you do for a bowl of cool, fresh water?” She studies him as she poses the question. As though his answer is of little concern. 

The huntsman stays silent.

“It's of little matter.” The queen shrugs. “In the end, you will call me mistress.” With that she leaves him for the night. 

The candles burn low until he's alone in the darkness. 

 

In the end, it's only three days before he asks for water. The queen nods at one of the guards to unchain him, but the collar is left around his neck. 

“Come here.” She sits upon her throne, legs crossed, waiting for him. 

He half starts to rise, but then remembers her words _'You will stay on your knees until I decide you deserve to walk like a man.'_...and slowly makes his way on all fours across the stone floor to kneel before her throne. 

“What will you do, my pet?”

“Anything.” His voice is a husk. He's not a man any more. She's right. He's nothing, not even animal. An animal would have died with dignity before begging anything from her. He's a husk of a man, not worth spitting upon. 

But something in him refuses to die just yet...and so he bows his head to her and waits. 

Languidly, she extends one polished boot. “Kiss my boot.” 

The huntsman only hesitates for a moment before pressing his lips to the leather. “Mistress.”

Her fingers reach down, curving through his hair to yank his head back. “My, what a good boy you've become.” The queen smiles, and releases his hair. “Chain him up again.”

 

She leaves him there again that night. 

 

The queen repeats this pattern for three days. 

 

On the third day, after kissing her boot he licks up the curve of her calf, tongue dry and desperate.

The queen chuckles, “Oh, you're ready.” She nods to one of the guards who pours from a pitcher of water. The bowl is placed in front of him and he wants to grab for it, but somehow he steels himself to wait. 

“Go ahead.”

Lowering his head, he laps at the water awkwardly. It runs down his chin, but he keeps on, trying to get as much as possible on his tongue. He's so grateful for the water, his cock hardens between his legs. 

The queen laughs and kicks the bowl away. The rest of the water slops over the rim. He watches it trickle across the flagstones dully. 

“This looks more eager now.” The queen reaches forward, pressing her boot against his crotch. He stays put, resisting the urge to retreat, or worse, rub against the foot like a dog. 

“Touch yourself.”

“What?” He stares at her incredulously.

“Don't tell me you've never done that. Wrap your hand around your cock and stroke the length.” Her boot presses more firmly against him and he hisses. “Do it.”

His hand closes around his shaft automatically. Slowly he strokes, his eyes never leaving hers. 

“That's it. Slower...” The queen watches his face as he works his cock. The action is awkward, as though he's not pleasured himself in sometime. She finds that most amusing, although unlikely. 

“Stop.” 

His hand stills and he waits, heart thumping in his chest as his cock lies heavy in his palm. 

“Guards.” The queen stands. “You'd better be that responsive in a little while, my pet.” 

Once again he's taken to the courtyard and made to wash. When he tries to drink the water instead, the guards hold him down and pour it over him. Shivering, hair sticking to his scalp, the huntsman is led back to her bedchamber. 

This time they tie him to the bed, flat on his back. Spread-eagled. 

The huntsman waits.

His cock has flagged somewhat between the cool night air and the chill of the water still dampening skin. He shivers, wondering what she'll do to him if he can't perform the commonest of acts for her. Will she tear his heart to shreds and toss him aside like one of her broken mirrors?

At some point in the last few days, he's realized that he still wants to live. In spite of this captivity, in spite of everything. He will live and he obey, and he will escape. A hunter must be good at waiting in order to catch its prey. 

The huntsman is patient.

The huntsman waits.


End file.
